


Our Stars

by FartCollectionServices



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-07 15:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14084193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FartCollectionServices/pseuds/FartCollectionServices
Summary: After battling for three long years, the coalition is finally able to bring down Lotor. However, those who strike down an emperor become leaders themselves, and Keith now heads the Galra Empire. Shiro and Keith meet back up with the rest of the paladins, and Keith begins to discover that heading the largest organization in the galaxy is not a walk in the park, especially when Shiro starts acting strange.





	1. Rivers

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based off of an idea and art by The Project Ava on Tumblr/Instagram. Their work is amazing and I'm so grateful that I got to chuck some words around based off of it. Comments and critiques are welcome, hope ya'll enjoy.
> 
> PS. I have no idea how to format on here so any advice on that would be great!

A halting silence stumbled into the room, snatching away the breath of the two paladins that stood on the cold floor. Bodies and small pools of blood flowed like syrup, racing droplets of sweat in a macabre dance. Highlighted with spatters of red, the control panel centered the room, and upturned chairs whispered of the end. An end had come. The end of an empire, of a life. Here was the death of an age, and the lingering smell of its old, hardened bones sung in Keith’s nostrils. His breath came in ragged gasps, his exhalations echoing, slamming and booming against the dark purple of the metal room. Lotor sagged against the wall, head tilted onto his shoulder, a picture of death that resounded with finality, with a job horrifyingly well done. Keith shivered and backed away, staring in terror at the body before him. It was his mission, he knew how it would end, but seas boiled inside him. He swayed back and forth; fragile, unsteady, a string stretched so taut it could play symphonies. Vision swimming, his eyes locked upon the culmination of years of war and hardship. “It’s done…” he whispered, the fate enclosed in the words screamed in his ears, making them ring and pop. “It’s-it’s over,” he panted. He shakily unclenched his hand, letting the sword drop to the floor in a sharp clatter that ripped the silence like tissue paper. Shiro stared. Although his face shone in a glaze of sweat, his breathing was steady, rhythmic. It was the only always Keith could find in a room that rang with endings and beginnings, the only constant. The simple inhale and exhale was a rock to stand upon in the center of a black, coursing river. Keith jumped on. Shiro did not speak. His mouth kept its line, a slanting angle of loss. The saddened look etched into his features did not grieve for him. Instead, it wept for Keith, wailed over his hunched shoulders, beat its fists against his pounding heart. Shiro sighed, still studying the red paladin while Keith stared back, fearing more Shiro’s stony face than the corpse of a prince slicked with blood that he himself had drawn. “Shiro?” he wavered, still swaying on the brink of exhaustion, his toes brushing the current of the dark water. The black paladin was silent a moment longer, his heart aching almost audibly. Old memories struggled viciously to rear their ugly faces, much too happy, too peaceful. He stood before the man he loved, everything changed in a single moment, a single action. The slightest arc of a sword had shattered it all, and dusty ruins now seemed more capable of standing than him. He finally spoke, his low voice stirred with grief and pain, of a bond still standing but entirely warped. “You know what Galra culture requires, don’t you?” A simple question, one that Keith already knew the answer to. Keith’s eyes widened in horror, his teeth clenched and more sweat streamed down his face and into his eyes. The rock had become slick and slimy with moss, every beat of his heart threatened a fall into the icy river. “Shiro no-” he wavered, voice breaking, slicing itself on every syllable of his plea. Shiro was unrelenting, stoic in a room that swirled and cried out in the pain of it all. Slowly, he raised a fist to his chest. “You keep what you kill.” Keith tried to stop him, tried to stop the freight train of fate from slamming into them, he frantically snatched at the unraveling strings of the future they had always planned. “Vrepit Sa, my Emperor.” It all slipped away, just as Keith slid into the coursing water, his rock sinking into a raging river of everything that could have been.

* * *

 

The flight home was silent. An absence of noise reminisced of conversations one could have, conversations they should have. So much had changed. A second and a first swing of sword had cleaved apart years of struggle while validating months of planning and pain. The war had changed them both. Constant battle and stress had soured their optimism. They fought because they had to, to protect those planets enslaved by the Galra, but Keith sometimes wished Shiro had never gone on the Kerberos mission. He would catch himself wondering what things could have been; happy, safe, free of the ever-growing pool of blood that ebbed and flowed and followed the oh-so-noble paladins of Voltron. Reality stung, and this truth slowly dawned on the team, mercilessly crushing them with its damp, mildewy weight. As the war raged on, it became clear that wherever Voltron went, liberation followed. And wherever liberation raised its proud head, one could be sure it stood its foot upon a mass of corpses. Keith looked over at Shiro. He was tense. Stress-white hands gripped the controls like a lifeline, though his face was as calm as the surface of a moonlit lake. Small waves and ripples in his peaceful facade were detectable with the anxious twitch of a foot, the tapping of a finger, the cocking of Shiro’s head as he listened for noises that weren’t there, couldn’t be there. “Shiro?” Keith asked, hoping to return the cockpit of the black lion to some semblance of normalcy. Shiro jumped slightly, then relaxed. He looked down at the controls, at his hands that held so tight as if in a ferocious struggle with some unseen force that wished to take the wheel from him. Sighing, he let go and sat back, looking over at Keith. “What’s up?” He responded, smiling that small grin that made everything a little more okay. Keith stood and moved over to sit in his lap, nestling himself up against Shiro’s muscular chest and putting his feet on the armrest. Shiro gently wrapped his arms around Keith, holding him to his body as tight as he had held the controls. It was going to be okay, it had to be. Looking up at his partner, in love and battle, Keith stroked his cheek, tracing the line of his chin and jaw as if to put them down on grey paper. He colored Shiro’s face with charcoal and the slightest brush of a forefinger, studying his ears and nose and painting them with splashes of graphite on the canvas of his memory. “Babe, are you okay?” He inquired, running his gloved hands through Shiro’s close-cropped hair. “Yeah, I’m fine, just a little tired from-from everything.” **_Liar_**. He stuttered, shrinking back slightly as he struggled to free the last words from his tongue. Pulling Keith even closer, he crossed his legs under Keith’s back on top of the seat. “It’ll be nice just to get home and relax for a while.” _**Betrayal**_. Keith nodded, curling up, and soon found himself asleep in Shiro’s arms, worries set to rest as Shiro carefully carried him to bed. The Black Paladin, however, continued a lone vigil in the cockpit after tucking his partner safely away. Shiro ran his own hands through his two-tone hair. Something was up. He could feel it in every fiber of his being. His stomach rolled and every nerve tingled, screamed in a hollow cry of danger. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes and sitting back in the pilot’s chair. Everything was going to be alright. **_MURDERER!_** Shiro shot up, spinning around in a terrified attempt to find whoever had spoken. The room blurred and shadows snatched at the corners of his vision. Hungry beasts pushed and pulled his lungs. They sipped away his oxygen and laughed cruelly as he gasped for more air, for more time. He checked the room surrounding the cockpit, and quickly walked to the bathroom, arm held behind him and glowing the deep purple that signalled danger just as much as the roiling whites of his eyes. Slowly, his grey irises found his reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was his own face, but scarred. His right eye was webbed in healed wounds, and glowed a bright gold like the bowels of a star. The Shiro staring back at him was beaten and battered, teeth set in a snarl that displayed his sharp canines as willing weapons seeking blood. Its eyes shone in chaos. They reveled in death, gloated in pain, tortured every second of the day until the sun ran weeping behind the horizon. Those eyes looked forward, looked at Shiro. He stepped back as the broken gaze of a soldier who fought too long stared directly into his. They were lost, deranged, whirling in frantic circles in an attempt to find an escape route that didn’t exist. The Champion growled, snarled, drool and foam forming in the corners of his mouth that flowed quickly down his chin. Blood was smeared around his face and coated his hands like syrup, flowing from his mouth and nose, dripping from his ears and dangling on his earlobes before plummeting to the floor. Licking his lips as a hungry predator, the champion leaned closer, closer...I’ll kill them all.

* * *

 

Keith awoke slowly. He savored every moment in the act of rising, from the first opening of the eyes to a long stretch that banished stiffness to far, dark corners of muscle. The bed and room itself held that enveloping, loving warmth of sleep and comfort; so pleasant when just awakening but normal at any other time. He yawned, sat up, and shook out his shoulders, pulling the covers into a cloak that protected his bare torso from any evil drafts of air. After laying in bed for as long as socially acceptable when one lacks major responsibilities, he hopped up and dressed himself, slipping on a pair of sweats and a navy blue and white sweater that smelled like Shiro. Shoes were not required. The absence of his partner didn’t worry him, Shiro had always been an early riser. Normally he would brew some coffee or make tea, then see to anything on the ship that required immediate attention. Or, on those rare mornings where the prodding hand of duty didn’t burst in, he might stargaze in the cockpit, or snuggle back up in bed to read a book or chat with the rest of the paladins. This daily rhythm quickly came to define their time together, and provided some continuity in a vast universe that spawned so little. Keith stepped out of the bedroom and padded down the hallway towards the cockpit, bare feet silent on the cool metal floors. Sometimes he was quieter than intended, thus making Shiro leap out of his chair with an ungodly yelp, but this morning he remained seated. Suspiciously so. “Shiro?” Keith queried, voice echoing slightly in the room. Outside lay bare space, sprinkled and spiced by the purple smears of stars and galaxies, and dotted with blazing suns that futilely demanded individual attention. Nebula’s swirled and streamed through the blackness, like great twisting snakes with ribs of stardust and meteors. Every so often an uninterrupted patch of emptiness yawned, the mouth of a hungry being so infinitely large that one could take lifetimes to tap each tooth. Shiro did not stir. He sagged against the seat, still in the protective layer of clothes that sat under his armor. Chest rising gently, he snored quietly, undisturbed by Keith’s cries. Keith sighed in relief, before noticing the large smear of blood that ran down Shiro’s left arm. Deep wounds gaped in the skin, embedded with small pieces of glass, and a small pool had formed where the blood had dripped off the armrest of the pilot’s chair and onto the floor. “Shiro? Shiro!” Keith shook him frantically. Shiro groggily opened his eyes, looking around in surprise, “Wha- What? Keith what’s wrong?” he said, staring at his partner with concern written in bold in his dark eyes. “You’re what’s wrong. Babe, what the hell happened to your arm?” “Oh, that. I think I fell or something. I guess I was more tired than I thought,” Shiro mumbled, not meeting Keith’s gaze. He scratched the back of his head and checked the wounds for himself, eyes widening as if it was the first time he’d seen the gaping cuts in his own flesh. Some recognition flashed in his eyes, remembrance of an event that Keith had no knowledge of, and a shiver ran through him. Shiro looked away from his arm in a mix of shame and fear, his mouth down turned in a finite curve that ended delicately in a well of confusion. “Oh, Keith. I’m really alright, it doesn’t hurt that bad,” he reassured his partner, seeming to come out of that dark place where he would sometimes get lost. Keith feared that he might get stuck forever down there, surrounded only by memories of his pain. “You’d better goddamn explain some things, you could’ve seriously hurt yourself!” Keith half-yelled. He wasn’t truly angry, more terror lurked in his mind than rage, fear that Shiro would get too injured, that he wouldn’t come back. Busying himself with the wounds helped pull his mind from such things. That would never happen. Eventually Keith dropped the issue. Shiro had fallen back into his own thoughts, hiking the dark jungle of experiences no one should ever have. He was obviously uncomfortable with the injury, so Keith didn’t push it. He knew that Shiro’s boundaries always had reasons for their existence, and he would just have to wait until his partner felt comfortable lowering this one. For now, though, he had to get out this stupid glass.

Much yelping and stitching later, Shiro’s arm was in some semblance of order and they’d both had a cup of coffee. They sat across from each other at the table, an uneasy silence pricking the skin and pulling teasingly at each hair on their necks. Shiro looked tired. Not the sleepiness of a busy day, no, he had the settled in appearance of bone-weariness. His shoulders sagged and the bags under his eyes painted stars just like the view outside the window. Although he took small sips of the steaming coffee, he clutched it more for warmth, his hands shaking each time he raised it to his lips. Nervousness and tension played a brutal symphony to Shiro’s exhaustion. His leg tapped and he never sat quite still, shifting position every once in a while in a futile attempt to accommodate each new ache that cried for his attention. An unsteady beat played out across his chest, it would fall slightly then expand massively, straining for something other than air. Keith looked on sadly. The war had been hard, but it was over now, they’d won. Why was Shiro so beat-down? Had he underestimated the battles’ toll on his partner? No, this was recent. Something was wrong. Electricity prickled the hair on his arms as he observed the man he had stood beside for so many years. Had one eye always been lighter than the other?


	2. The Coalition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allura calls a meeting to decide what to do with the Galra now that Keith has become their leader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet again, props to The Project Ava for all the inspo. I tried to make this chapter relatively lighthearted, so enjoy!

Stars galloped through the night. Moons pranced and trotted about those stars, glinting and shining in some celestial dance made seductive by the blackness in between. Nebulae swirled and slashed the darkness, pulsing in gentle gradients of light that bowed to the bright birthplace of suns. Every so often a blue flicker could be glimpsed. Perhaps it was a laser beam from far away, or the last goodbye of a dying star, or the gleeful reflection of a newborn planet’s promise. 

Keith gazed out the window of the cockpit. He could feel the black lion slowing, and soon the Castle came into view. It loomed beside a small grey planet that was painted in a myriad of milky greens. Strips of olive brightened to the fluorescence of fresh grass and faded to blackness in craters on the planet’s surface. “We’re almost home babe,” Keith sighed, hoping Shiro might find some peace around old friends. His arm was healing nicely, but he still had not spoken of the cause of his injury. 

“Yep, it’ll be nice to see the other paladins after so long,” Shiro replied, easing his lion into the Castle’s tower.

Keith’s eyes widened as the many months came rushing back. They had been gone for a very long time. Almost three years had passed along staticky communications and late-night face chats. Battles that had seemed to last mere minutes now truly showed their enormity, and the mission that had gone by in a second now spanned lifetimes. They were so different, yet the familiarity and comfort of the Castle called out to him as he realised how dearly he missed his other crew members.

It was a tearful reunion. Coran sobbed openly while Pidge threw herself into Shiro’s arms. Hugs came one after another, interspersed with kind words and congratulations. “Well done Keith, I’m so proud of you.” Allura held him close and Keith held on just as tightly, never fully knowing how much he’d needed to hear those words from her until now. 

Hunk, being his usual self, fixed up a massive array of dishes, and one could find inspiration from almost every planet in the coalition. Some things squirmed while other plates quickly scooted across the table, requiring Hunk to herd them back into their initial position. Everyone sat down at the table, just like old times. Memories quivered like rain clouds in the air, dripping small reminisces and pulling the diners back to the first time they had eaten here. 

Small grins could be found on the paladins faces as they thought back to the training sessions and battles; small skirmishes that now were child’s play. They had come so far. Voltron used to be their strategy, but divide and conquer had quickly showed itself to be much more efficient. It was rare to see the lions united anymore, each member had their own mission and objective to attend to. Keith wondered how things might have gone if they had stayed together, fought side-by-side like the early days of the coalition. He shook his head. Grasping at what could have been would only bring heartaches in the present. 

“Shiro, Keith,” Allura spoke, breaking Keith’s reverie, “we know you succeeded in your mission, but we’ve only heard about Lotor through the coalition’s communications. Could you tell us more?” She smiled encouragingly. Allura always knew how to make someone feel special, and how to bring people together. 

The couple looked at each other, and Keith nodded. Shiro cleared his throat, “Well, we left here and worked our way closer to Lotor’s command. Other members of the coalition helped us along the way, and we finally reached his headquarters a week ago. There were only a few serious battles along the way, which you guys helped out in, but Lotor’s palace was probably the largest one that Keith and I handled ourselves. We breached the building and fought our way to him...then we ended it.” Shiro’s voice broke slightly and the room embraced silence as a mother clutches her missed child. The black paladin’s hands shook slightly, and he looked down at his plate.  

“Mission accomplished, galaxy saved!” Lance cut in with a congratulatory shout, pumping his arm and just barely missing Pidge and a large bowl of food. Both Pidge and the food glared at Lance in disgruntlement, while Shiro glanced at him gratefully. Lance nodded subtly, instant understanding passing between the two. After a few tense seconds the mood lightened, and soon the reunited paladins were laughing and chatting as the oldest of friends.

* * *

 

“Damn, it’s been one hell of a week,” Keith said, sitting on the bed against the wall. A pillow was stuffed behind him, and he clasped a small book in his hands. Blankets surrounded him, draped over his shoulders after his mad dash under the covers because Coran always turned the Castle’s thermostat down. He claimed it stimulated good rest but Keith didn’t believe him. 

“It sure has,” Shiro replied, “I’m so tired I could sleep for days.” He took his shirt off, chucking it in the far corner, and inspected the healing wounds on his left hand. Long scratches ran down it, matching those on his well-built chest and back. They reminded Keith of the cracks that formed in melting ice. He could almost hear the snapping sounds, the deep booms that echoed for miles, only causing more damage the further down they ran. 

Shiro clenched and unclenched his fingers. “Seems to be healing nicely,” he remarked. 

Keith raised an eyebrow, “I guess. But it wouldn’t have to heal if you hadn’t punched that mirror.” Shiro flinched, obviously shirking away from some ugly memory that bared teeth. Feeling guilty, Keith walked over and wrapped his arms around his much-larger partner. “I’m sorry babe, I’m just a little worried about you. I shouldn’t have said that.” 

“No, it’s okay. You have a reason to be nervous, I guess I’ve been acting kinda weird lately,” Shiro said, pulling Keith close and holding him tight. Keith always smelled like summer. He was fresh grass and the shade under oak trees. He was the hot, wispy breeze that ruffled green leaves and dappled the ground with its passing. He was ice cold lemonade, the sweat that dripped down one’s spine, raging lightning storms and joyful lightning bugs. Keith was coyotes howling mournfully in the night, sending chills down the backs of those that still had not sunk into sleep. He was a reminder of the wilderness only present when one sat the furthest away from it. 

Shiro quickly wrapped his arms under Keith’s legs, lifting him up in one smooth motion and causing Keith to squeak in surprise. Keith’s nimble hands reached up and clasped Shiro’s face, pulling him in and kissing him deeply. “I love you.” He whispered, looking up at his partner. There were galaxies in his eyes. Whole star systems that flared with possibility, moons and suns that cradled darkness just as much as they embraced the light. He was solar eclipses that tossed shadows upon civilizations as children tossed jacks. Shiro’s eyes were comets, bright, icy as they flew by in their flaming repose. He was gravity, endlessly pulling, grounding those that stood upon his surface. He was beginnings, endings, an endless force that told time to move around  _ him _ .

Shiro set Keith down on the bed and leaned over him, kissing his neck and shoulders. “I love you too,” he said breathlessly, smiling down at his partner. His eyes were bright, burning with lust. Flames of passion flared in Shiro’s grey eyes, passion and something else, something almost...predatory.

They awoke not needing blankets for warmth. Body heat served fine with Keith pressed tightly in the curve of Shiro’s torso. He nestled closer, putting his head under Shiro’s chin. “Hmm” Shiro grunted sleepily, throwing his left arm over Keith and hugging him close. “Morning,” he whispered, kissing Keith’s cheek. His voice was wrapped in sleep, the scratchy, quiet tone that rang of a good night’s rest. Keith always loved Shiro’s morning-voice. It was special, something only he got to hear, like a timid animal that would come only to him. 

Shiro rose slowly, stretching and yawning, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, filled temporarily with the acute grief of a lost dream. He padded quietly over to the bathroom, and Keith could hear the shower turn on. He shivered, the room too cold and the bed too empty with Shiro gone. With a little squirming, he was able to dart back under the covers and curl up in the warm impression left by Shiro’s body. Keith drifted back into a light sleep, filled with those pleasant dreams that one can control, and rested in the doze of a morning bereft of responsibility. There was only peace.

* * *

 Keith stretched, spreading his arms and reaching skyward with a large yawn. Shiro, apparently not done cuddling, wrapped his arms around Keith's torso, his metal arm slightly colder than his other hand. Keith sagged into him, nestling his head into the dip between Shiro's neck and shoulder. "Does Allura need us for any coalition stuff?" Keith asked, looking up at his partner's square jaw.

"Yeah, she wants us at the bridge in 20 minutes" Shiro replied, letting go of Keith and slipping on his jacket. At least it was clean now. Keith had insisted he wash it immediately after they arrived at the castle after taking a whiff a few days earlier and boycotting any contact while Shiro was wearing it. Shiro wasn't very good at doing laundry. 

"Alright, I'm gonna put on some pants."

"Probably a good idea," Shiro said, smiling coyly. They left with a few minutes to spare, and took the glowing blue elevator up to the bridge. 

The rest of the paladins had already gathered and large holograms displayed the other leaders of the coalition on the windows, blocking out the stars while they conversed. "Keith, Shiro," Allura smiled, genuine and caring. It was nice to feel the camaraderie among all the paladins again. Too many years had passed that were absent of good friends. The rest of the group echoed her greetings, Lance asking Shiro how he slept with a sly wink. Shiro frowned and Keith winked back, making Shiro frown more than Keith thought he was capable of frowning.

"Enough kidding around," Allura said with a grin, "shall we begin?" The holograms nodded their assent. "Good. Let me begin by welcoming all of you, on behalf of Altea and the paladins of Voltron. I have brought us here to discuss what the coalition should do now that Shiro and Keith have succeeded in their mission of dispatching Lotor." A few of the leaders' eyes grew wide in shock, Keith guessed they hadn't been informed of the news that Lotor was now very dead. 

One of the holograms, Keith couldn't remember her name, spoke, "Don't the Galra pass the title to family?"

"No, they pass it to a worthy successor!" Another leader cut in, Keith didn't recall his name either, but that was because he didn't like him very much. Soon all eight of the leaders were arguing over who would get the throne, tossing out wild suggestions such as the throne falling to who had conquered the most or the most successfully, or whose skin was purplest. Keith held in a giggle and could see the other paladins doing the same. 

"Quiet!" Allura demanded, the bickering holograms cut off abruptly, most looking confused and few seeming slightly irked that she had interrupted their blabbering. "The Galra throne falls, as we all know, to the victor of mortal combat with the previous emperor. This victor is a member of the Blade of Marmora and an accomplished swordsman. His name is Keith Kogane." Stunned silence followed her statement like a freight train, slamming into the bridge and whipping winds of uncomfortable tension among those conversing. Keith blushed and dug at the metal floors with his toe, thoroughly hating being the center of attention. Shiro, ever-perceptive, moved closer his partner, a comforting presence that served to steady Keith's breathing to a more normal level.

"Is this true?" One leader asked, the entire bridge holding its breath.

"Yes," Keith hesitated, "I am the new Galran emperor."

The room once again erupted into chaos, holograms arguing with leaders arguing with paladins. Pidge at once turned and jumped into Hunk's arms, and Lance almost made it to the doors before Allura threw him bodily back towards the screaming screens. Coran pensively stroked his mustache for a second or two, and decided upon the course of action where he muted everyone and glared at the leaders to establish dominance. This strategy worked quite effectively, and the holograms fell silent once more.

Allura, always the expert diplomat, was finally able to steer the meeting. "I recall that I ordered this meeting to decide what to  _do_ , not to bicker amongst ourselves and achieve nothing." The leaders shrunk back even further, cowed both by Coran's glaring and Allura's disappointment. They were an extremely powerful team. 

"W-well," the leader-who-Keith-didn't-know spoke stutteringly, "shouldn't we just dissolve the empire? That would free the planets not in the coalition and we wouldn't have to deal with Galran infighting.

"Wouldn't the Galra just dispose of Keith and put a new leader in place that would continue their rule?" Another leader queried.

"Also, dissolving the empire might cause more chaos than simply adjusting it. I think we should attempt to garner peace with the Galra that this Keith now leads and free the planets slowly so as not to cause widespread disturbance." Ryner provided. She had always been a voice of wisdom in the Coalition's decisions, and all of the paladins favored her input. The paladins, however, were not the only ones who respected Ryner. Soon the other leaders began nodding, and it appeared that they might actually agree on what to do. Allura guided them, and eventually hammered out a workable strategy based off of Ryner's idea of continuing the Galran empire for the time being. 

Now, the Coalition had to persuade the Galra to agree to it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Sparring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The paladins have a little fun sparring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fluffy sheith and Pidge apprieciation. Excuse any errors and bad formatting. Thanks for reading!

The training room was a furnace. Coran had disabled the room's cooling system in an attempt to, as he said "acclimate the Paladins to fighting in hotter environments", but Keith doubted this after seeing him laughing hysterically when Lance fell in a puddle of his own sweat. Keith had almost followed Lance down a few times during the session, but had managed to miraculously keep his footing when sparring with the others. They traded off partners at 5 minute intervals, Coran promising spoils to whomever won the most matches. So, with grim determination, the Paladins of Voltron filled the room with the clanging of metal and sharp cracks of wood.  
Currently Keith was facing Pidge. They both settled, raising their arms and weapons, sinking into a stance to ensure no easy pushovers. Keith twirled his staff and steadied his breathing, shooing away any thoughts that threatened to draw attention away from their match. Although Keith was skilled, he had truly never seen a limit to Pidge's speed in a fight, sometimes only seeing a blur before he ended up on the floor when they sparred. Pidge too was nervous, knowing full well that Keith's technique and strength far outweighed hers. She rolled her shoulders and nodded to her opponent. "You ready?"   
"Yep," Keith said, terse. He sunk even lower, coiling like a spring, then lunged towards her, swinging his staff in a high arc and slamming it down upon hers. She'd just managed to cover her shoulder to block the blow, feeling it's force vibrate her arm, before she redirected her staff, smacking Keith hard in the ribs. He let out a gust of air and staggered back, struggling to fend off a flurry of blows as Pidge advanced with a slight smirk. His side ached, Keith could feel the imprint of the staff stinging against his side as he backpedaled, each movement he made aggravating his newly gained ache. But Pidge wasn't done just yet.   
She took a slight step back and staggered her hips, striking at Keith's legs even faster than she had swung at his torso. Then, with a grunt, she whipped her staff low, hitting Keith in the shins and sweeping his legs out from under him. He landed with a hard thud on the ground, breath wheezing in and out of his lungs as Pidge stepped back in triumph. Keith shook his head, dazed. He'd barely had time to think, much less react, and he was struggling to recall the sequence of events that had led to him landing on his back. The other Paladins did not envy his current position, having ended up the same way after their own individual matches against the tiny Green Paladin. Pidge was a force to be reckoned with.  
\----------  
Exhausted, the Paladins slowly filed out of the training room once Coran had called an end to the session. Lance had exited with his usual boasting, "I won 6 outta 10, not bad!" and flexed his arms as he proclaimed his victories.  
"Hey Keith, wait up a minute," Shiro called, just putting away his sword in a panel that slid out from the wall. It disappeared again with a quiet whoosh, the white walls growing seamless once more.  
"Yea, what's up?" He walked back over. Keith ran a hand through his hair, removing the hairband that had kept his bangs out of his face when they had been sparring. It was soaked in sweat, as was the rest of him, his skin glinting in the glowing light that the Castle produced. Shiro looked to be in about the same state, deep stains on his back and under his arms from his exertions. Keith admired the black paladin, taking his time to trace the curves of his shoulders and arms, standing back to admire Shiro's strong back and torso, deliciously well defined under his tight shirt. The turquoise fabric could cover little of Shiro's power, gasping for reprieve where hard muscle offered none. Keith considered that Shiro could have easily found work as a model if they had stayed on Earth, smirking when an image of Shiro strutting down a catwalk while wrapped in outrageous outfits popped into his head.   
"What are you laughing at?" Shiro smiled, closing the distance between them and pressing his body up against Keith's. He looked down, eyes bright and warm despite their stormy grey coloration. Exercise always seemed to lighten Shiro's mood, along with keeping him in tip-top shape judging from the ability to count his abs through his shirt. He nuzzled Keith's hair, smiling wide as he kissed a gentle trail down from Keith's ears that made him gasp and put more of his weight on the larger man.   
“Why’d you call me over Shiro?” Keith asked, still smothered in Shiro’s affections.  
Planting a final kiss in his forehead, Shiro cupped Keith’s face in his hands, “Oh, I just wanted to say hi.”  
“You never said hi, you just kissed me,” Keith giggled.  
“I gave you kisses,” Shiro smiled mischievously, “if I wanted to kiss you I do this.” Before Keith could reply he pressed their lips together, enveloping Keith in a wave of warmth that made his toes tingle. The smaller paladin sunk into the kiss with a gentle moan, pressing his hands against Shiro’s firm chest in an attempt to regain the stability that the kiss stole. It was always like this with Shiro, utterly breathtaking, leaving Keith gasping for air and for more contact, more anything from the man he was so ecstatic to claim.   
Any thought of Shiro as his partner sent chills up Keith’s spine, parallel with the chills Shiro’s fingers brought in their wake as he caressed the red paladin’s shoulders and back. With a vice-grip on Shiro’s hips, Keith hungrily pushed back into the kiss, smirking as Shiro had to take a step back to steady himself. When his need for air finally overwhelmed his need, Keith backed off, Shiro chasing with a dissatisfied groan.   
“Whoa there,” Keith grinned, more than pleased that he had this effect on their usually composed leader.  
Shiro sighed happily, cheeks a deep red, and leaned his forehead against the smaller paladin’s. Keith’s bangs brushed both of their faces.   
“Alright,” Shiro relented with a mischievous smile, “I may have called you over for more than a hello.”  
“Oh?” Keith hummed, looking into Shiro’s endless grey eyes trying to memorize every stripe and swirl. They whirled like a hurricane, enveloping Keith in a wind that swept him off his feet.  
Shiro interrupted his reverie, warm breath on his forehead, “I was wondering if you would have dinner with me? Tonight? I could have Hunk whip up something special.”  
Keith hesitated, surprised by Shiro’s request. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to eat dinner with Shiro, hell, he wanted to do everything he possibly could with him. Keith wanted to spend every goddamn minute with Shiro, stay by his side and never let go of his hand.   
“I...won’t the other Paladins realize that we are…”  
“Together?” Shiro interrupted.  
“Y-yeah. I just, are we ready for that?” Keith queried, his heart thumping in his chest not because of Shiro’s affections. He was nervous, the same anxiety fluttering in his ribcage that he had felt when he had first asked Shiro to sit with him on the Garrison roof.   
Shiro looked confused and stepped back, his eyes guarded. “I thought we were.”   
Suddenly, he moved back towards Keith, pulling him close with strong arms that wrapped his waist. “We’ll do whatever you want babe,” he said quietly, nuzzling Keith’s ear in reassurance, “If you aren’t okay with that then we can wait?”   
“No, I…” Keith sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I just don’t want to deal with the aftermath of everything if they don’t like the fact that we’re together. It’d just be a big mess and we’re busy enough as is. I don’t know,” Keith stared into Shiro’s eyes, trying to read his answers and emotions. They softened, the storm slowed, strong winds settling to a light breeze that caressed Keith’s cheek and whisked away his fear.  
“Then let’s wait. But at least come watch the stars with me tonight?”   
“Absolutely,” Keith said, the last of his nervousness drifting away as he leaned up to kiss Shiro again.   
The larger man melted into him, gently running his fingers through Keith’s long hair and sending tingles up his spine.   
Shiro was everything, all enveloping as he conquered every part of the red paladin’s heart with his gentleness. Red and black blended and swirled, painting a galaxy, a cosmos more beautiful than any stars their eyes would see tonight.


End file.
